Olivia hums under her breath, tightening her grip. “Yes?”
“I am not a man in control of myself right now. You keep toying with me, and I’m going to ruin that pretty dress of yours.”
She chuckles, breathy and low, as she drops to her knees. The first swipe of her tongue has me slamming my hands into the tree to keep from buckling.
The second has me seeing stars.
EIGHT
OLIVIA
He tastes salty and a little bitter, yet not in a grossI know where he’s beenkind of way. It’s actually a little invigorating, and with the way he strains above me, trying to keep hold of the little control he has left, knowingI’mthe one taking it from him…
Heat swells in my belly, making me hot all over.
I take him in my mouth slowly, the head of his cock on my tongue. He’s wide enough that I feel a strain at the corners of my lips, one that tells me taking all of him will be impossible. I knew Ford was big the first time. I’d just felt him stretch me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
This just tells me I’ll have to be a little more creative.
Keeping my left hand wrapped around his shaft, I play with myself and take him as deep as I can before releasing him completely to run my tongue down the underside of his cock. Ford makes a choked sound above me before blowing out a breath.
“Olivia…” he warns again, control slipping further. “This is going to be very embarrassing.”
I pull my lips from him long enough to look up at him through my lashes. “And why’s that, cowboy?”
He hisses again when I flick my tongue over his slit. “Because I don’t quite have the stamina I used to.”
“I distinctly remember you giving me…three orgasms before you came the first time,” I murmur around his tip, which earns me another guttural sound.
Ford runs his fingers through my hair gently before placing his palm on the back of my head. “Darlin’, you were the last woman I was ever with, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since.”
I pause, tongue flattened on the underside of his cock, and look up at him. Shining eyes find mine, soft in a way that makes my heart stutter and guilt wash through me. “You haven’t?”
He shakes his head. “No. Never stopped thinking about you. And having you here is like a dream come true. Not just on your knees, before you ask. But in general. Just knowing you’re real—that none of it was a fantasy—is better than anything I could have hoped for.”
A lump forms in my throat, so thick I can barely swallow around it.
Ford doesn’t let me finish, instead guiding me back to my feet and kissing me hard, pouring everything he has—his devotion, his heart, his hope—into it.
And for a moment, I get lost in the touch of him, letting the guilt fall away.
Ford cradlesme in his arms, our hands joined over his racing heart while I lay my head on his chest. Neither of us move, lost to our own thoughts. If it weren’t for the fact that I could feel him tracing soft, slow circles on my hand, I might have thought him asleep.
Instead, we both stare at the rising sun—magnificent as it lights up the early morning sky—through the gap in the trees.
“What are you thinking about, darlin’?” he asks, a twang of that southern charm heavy in his voice. The more tired he is, the thicker it becomes, I’ve noticed.
A shaky breath falls from my lips, eyes closing. In the darkness, I see Christopher. His chubby, smiling face. The hint of dimples that are a direct inheritance from his father. I get a glimpse at what our life could be like if I finally tell Ford the truth.
“There’s something I need to tell you?—”
I get cut off by shouts and the squeals of women near the waterfall. It’s so shocking after experiencing the silence of the night that it has me sitting up, heart racing.
Ford chuckles, running a hand down my spine. “Skinny dippers,” he says, voice light. “They think we don’t know about it.”
The lump in my throat is tight, making it hard to swallow or speak, but I somehow manage a small laugh in response.
My accidental husband sits up, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong? Did I do some?—”
